Hidden Intricacies
by Shira Lansys
Summary: A Merlin/Lancelot take on episode 4x02  The Darkest Hour . Because, for me, that epsiode was completely filled with homoerotic subtext. This story will be continued until I've covered the entire episode. Slash.
1. The Conversation

**Hidden Intricacies **

_Chapter One – The Conversation_

"You don't have to continue on this journey with me, you know," Merlin said lowly. His voice was surprisingly deep and rough – Lancelot wondered when that had happened, and why he hadn't noticed it before. He was certain that it had been smoother when they first met. Perhaps it was an after-effect of his recently-cured illness?

He managed a small laugh, because the idea of him not continuing was really quite ridiculous. He was a knight, and Merlin was a servant. Imagine what people would say if Merlin continued on while he ran home! Not to mention, he'd made a promise to Guinevere. And then there was the other reason... the one he was pointedly trying not to think about, especially when he was in such close proximity to Merlin.

"Try and stop me," he told Merlin challengingly, a cheeky grin spread across his face. He held out the bottle, and Merlin accepted the silent offering.

"Why?" The question was asked like Merlin already knew the answer, although Lancelot knew that it wasn't the case. The boy– man, he had to remind himself, as Merlin was definitely no longer a child –had some misconstrued ideas that were true once, but no longer. "Because you're a knight, you feel honour bound?"

Lancelot considered the sorcerer's words for a moment. That answer would have been true once. How he'd dreamed of being decked in shining armour, galloping through the lands at Prince Arthur's side. He'd have done it even if he wasn't a knight. He remembered, before Uther lost his mind, he'd done just that – dropped everything at a word from Merlin, just to save Arthur.

He probably still would continue with this perilous mission just because he was a knight, he thought. Probably.

It wasn't the reason he'd refuse Merlin's offer to turn back, though. "You wouldn't understand," Lancelot said, trying to keep his voice light. "It doesn't make any sense to me, either."

And it didn't. He didn't know what it was about the dark-haired, annoying, amazing boy sitting before him, but Lancelot was enraptured by him. The word he'd like to use was enchanted but, given what he knew about Merlin, he didn't think it was entirely appropriate. He'd almost think that he _was _enchanted by him, if it weren't for the fact that Merlin was so incredibly oblivious to _everything_.

It didn't make sense, but somehow, at the same time, it did. Lancelot knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was irrevocably, head over heels in love with Merlin. That was where his certainty ended, however.

How could he be in love with _Merlin_, of all people? Lancelot was certainly no noble snob, but he'd expected to spend the rest of his days pining after Guinevere, or courting some other lovely lady, even if she wasn't of high social standing. He'd expected to ride off into the sunset on a perilous adventure with some barmaid's handkerchief in his belt, so that he could impress her and gain her favour. He _hadn't_ expected to brave death and mauling and magic and worse because he wanted to protect – and be close to – some servant boy who was hiding his entire life from most of his closest friends.

"Gwen?" Another wrong guess by Merlin. It was almost a statement, and it proved to Lancelot that he wasn't the only one who'd expected that he'd fall in love with her.

"I made her a vow I would keep Arthur safe," Lancelot replied, which was true. He'd keep Arthur safe for Gwen – not that he'd have let anything happen to him in the first place. He was the prince, after all. And it would hurt Merlin more than Lancelot could comprehend if Arthur were to come to harm. So even without the vow, he'd give his life to protect Arthur.

But it wouldn't hurt to keep that bit of information from Merlin.

"You don't have to worry," Merlin responded, without missing a beat. "I'll keep him safe."

Those words clenched at Lancelot's heart, for several reasons.

It was said with such surety that spoke volumes; Merlin knew that, even without magic, he'd protect his prince. Even though it would mean his life, Merlin would keep Arthur from harm. No matter the perils, no matter how scary the situation, no matter how angry he was with Arthur, he'd give his life for him without a second of hesitation.

It was the haste with which he said the words: eager to claim _his_ right to protect Arthur above anyone else's, because he knew that was what he was supposed to do. It was what he _wanted _to do. Arthur was a prince, and Merlin knew that he was nothing but a servant. It was all he could ever be. But when Arthur was in danger and Merlin could use his powers to save him, then he got to be _more_. It didn't even matter that Arthur couldn't know what Merlin did, or that the '_more'_ that Merlin got to be was not the 'more' he wanted.

And, above anything, it was the reassurance that came with those words. Because Merlin _cared_. He cared about people; about his friends, and about people he barely knew. Lancelot knew that no matter what he did, no matter how many times he sacrificed himself, no matter who he managed to save from some peril, he would never be as good a person as Merlin. It had broken his heart when he'd buried his feelings for Gwen so that Arthur could pursue her. In some ways, it had been the most selfless thing he'd ever done. But even that couldn't make him more selfless than Merlin, because Merlin did noble and selfless things without others knowing. Sometimes, he did these things without _himself_ knowing.

Like now, when he was sacrifice himself, and his first concern was keeping Lancelot safe. When he should be accepting Lancelot's help in the protection of his prince, but instead was reassuring Lancelot that he wasn't needed, in an attempt to protect him.

It was in these moments that Lancelot knew _exactly _why he was here.

"I made a vow, Merlin," Lancelot told him, because there was no way he was leaving Merlin alone. There was silence for a moment.

Unsurprisingly, Merlin broke it. "You still think about her?" It was half question, half statement.

"No," Lancelot replied, although he doubted Merlin would believe him. Sure enough, he got a doubtful glance from the young sorcerer. "Arthur's… a better man than me," he continued, and he was no longer talking about Gwen. Now he thought about it, why _was _everyone so infatuated with Arthur? Or, at least, why were all the people Lancelot _didn't_ want to be infatuated with him, infatuated with him?

"I'm sorry," Merlin said, and for a moment Lancelot thought he'd figured it out. But then reality caught up with him and he realised it was just a general expression of condolence.

"Why?" Lancelot half-laughed. "He loves her," _'you'_ he thought, "and she's happy." Or, at least, as happy as Merlin would be with Arthur. Maybe Gwen _would_ have returned his feelings at the start, but he knew that Merlin wouldn't. Far better to keep things the way they were and save any of the awkwardness that might occur.

Merlin looked extremely unhappy at this resignation, but lapsed back into silence.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'll be continuing with this, until I've covered at least the entire episode. This is my response to the injustice that is Lancelot's death. While I'm much more of a Merlin/Arthur person myself, I'm horrified that the writers have done this! Lancelot was probably the best character there, and there is little doubt that he was the noblest. I shall be in mourning for him for at least the time it takes me to write this fanfiction. **

**Please review! **


	2. The Dragon

**Hidden Intricacies **

_Chapter Two – The Dragon_

There was… _something_ about walking with Merlin, Lancelot mused as they ran through the forest, that made you realise there was more to this world than what most people saw. As they ran from the Darocha, Merlin called out something Lancelot didn't understand in a very strange voice, and the knight realised that, once more, he was about to bear witness to yet another wonder of the magical world.

The piercing shrieks rang out from behind them, and the two friends picked up their pace. Lancelot hoped Merlin's plan would work soon. He wasn't sure for how long they could keep outrunning the deadly spirits.

He wondered what Merlin had done; hadn't the sorcerer himself said that his magic didn't work against these otherworldly creatures? But he didn't have to wait long to find out.

The white blurs were catching up to them, their screams growing louder and louder. Any moment now, Lancelot knew, they'd be upon them. And then it happened.

From nowhere, a great dragon flew from the sky, breathing fire right into the path of the Darocha. The spirit didn't stop, and was consumed by the flames. Once more, flames emerged from the dragon's mouth, hitting another Darocha. Merlin screeched to a halt, and the Dragon landed before him.

Lancelot drew his sword and went to place his body in front of Merlin. While he hoped that this was Merlin's plan, he wouldn't count on it. Everything he'd ever heard about dragons indicated they were vicious beasts who would eat a human as soon as look at them. But Merlin put out his hand to stop Lancelot. "It's alright," he said, and Lancelot let out a breath of relief, unable to tear his eyes away from the Dragon before him. The thing was the size of a castle! "It's alright," Merlin repeated, and Lancelot thought he sounded relieved, too. It was scary to think how close they'd come to dying – again.

Lancelot watched, fascinated, as the sorcerer stepped forwards and bowed his head slightly. "Thank you," Merlin said. The Dragon blinked in acknowledgment.

"Who is your friend?" The Dragon's voice was surprisingly smooth, with an unexpected tone that reminded Lancelot of a kind, old professor. Then he reminded himself that it was surprising a dragon could speak _at all_.

Merlin looked at Lancelot, and he attempted to summon his voice. It might have come out a little too deep for normal – he was still in shock. Just a bit. "I'm Lancelot," he managed to get out.

He could have sworn the dragon _smiled_. "Of course," the great creature breathed. "Sir Lancelot. The bravest and most noble of them all."

Lancelot blinked. He didn't feel very brave right now; he tried not to let the trembling in his knees show. "I'm not sure that's true," Lancelot said. The conversation with Merlin was still fresh in his mind – how could anyone call themselves noble standing next to him? Lancelot had done a few brave and noble things, but he doubted that it was more than what many other knights did.

"We shall see," the Dragon said. His voice was still warm and kind, and even from that distance Lancelot felt his warm breath touch him, banishing away the cold of the night air. It reminded him of summer, and he suddenly pictured warm summer meadows and fields of green grass. "For now there are more pressing things at hand," the Dragon continued. "The Darocha cannot be allowed to remain in this world. The sundid veil must be restored."

Lancelot stepped forwards. His courage had returned, and he took advantage of that to speak up. "We're on our way to the Isle of the Blessed," said Lancelot, "to help Arthur heal it."

"Indeed," the Dragon said, seemingly delighted by this information. "But at what price?"

"I know that the spirit world demands a sacrifice," Merlin said slowly, as though the words caused him pain.

"It demands nothing," the Dragon contradicted him. "It is the Cailleachs, the gatekeeper to the spirit world, who asks such a price."

"And there is no other way?" Merlin asks. His voice had little hope and, sure enough, the Dragon looked down on Merlin sadly.

"There is not," he said, shaking his head slightly.

"Arthur intends to sacrifice himself to heal the veil," Merlin informed the Dragon. "And it is my destiny to protect him. You taught me that."

It was not until that moment that Lancelot realised just why Merlin had been so insistent on coming on this journey. Of course, Arthur would never ask anyone else to give themselves for Camelot when he was perfectly capable of doing so. Lancelot doubted he would even _allow _it. And Merlin….

"Merlin," the Dragon said gravely, "you must not do this."

Lancelot wanted to agree with the Dragon, but he doubted it would make a difference. Already, a plan was forming in his mind.

"Then I have no choice," Merlin said. His voice was resigned; he'd known this was his fate all along. "I must take his place." '

"From the moment I met you," the Dragon said, and Lancelot began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. It was as though he was intruding upon something private. He wondered whether he should wander in the other direction and hum loudly. "I saw something that was invisible. Now it is there for _all_ to see."

Lancelot wondered what exactly the Dragon was talking about. Was in Merlin's nobility? That was something that everyone could see now; even Arthur must realise to just what extent Merlin would go to, seeing as he'd proven he was willing to give his life for the prince.

"All of what you see, old friend," Merlin said slowly, and somehow he managed to pull a smile onto his face, "is what you taught me."

Lancelot realised that this was their good-bye. Or, at least, what they thought was their goodbye. "It will be an empty world without you," the Dragon said, and Lancelot felt himself silently agreeing. "Young Warlock."

Merlin's smile fell from his face as the Dragon began to rise into the air, and Lancelot wanted to rest his hand on the sorcerer's arm. He wanted to reassure Merlin, to tell him that it'd be alright.

But he couldn't. Not yet.

* * *

><p>It was the next day before Lancelot made himself bring up what had happened with the Dragon the night before.<p>

"When we get to the isle of the blessed," Lancelot said, "do you really intend to sacrifice yourself?" He already knew the answer, but he had to make sure.

"What do you want me to say?" Merlin asked defensively.

"I look at you and I wonder about myself," Lancelot said, finally giving voice to his thoughts. "Could I knowingly give up my life for something?"

"You have to have a reason," Merlin said. "Something you care about. Something that's more important than anything."

He spurred his horse into a gallop before Lancelot could say – or stop himself from saying – that he already had that, and it was still hard to be certain whether he could do it or not. He paused for a moment, then picked up his pace to ride after Merlin once more.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for the great response to this story, guys!**

**I've probably spelt the Sundid veil wrong… I couldn't find the spelling for it on the internet, so I guessed. If anyone knows what it actually is, drop me a review and I'll fix it up.**

**SPOILER ALERT: **

**Thanks to Llanea, who reminded me that there are scenes in the trailer with Lancelot that have yet to be in an episode, meaning that Lancelot will probably come back. **

**SPOILER OVER. **

**Please review!**


	3. The Ending

**Hidden Intricacies **

_Chapter Three – The Ending_

As they walked towards the veil, Lancelot couldn't help but risk a small glance at Merlin. He'd watched silently as they boy cast some magic to send those wyverns running. He'd hoped it would take longer; that at least he'd get one last, bloody fight in before he went. But they fled at the sight of Merlin's eyes – which, now Lancelot thought about it, were definitely different to his normal ones.

Looking at them now, they were the same as ever.

It had been the hardest thing Lancelot had ever done, not staying to fight the wyverns with the other three. He could have; could have let Gawain, Arthur and Merlin continue on, while he protected their backs. It would have even been a little valiant, and it would have _seemed _brave; facing the dangerous monsters and risking life and limb so his companions could continue.

But it would have been the cowards way out. He would have been choosing the likely chance of surviving over the choice of saving Merlin.

He hesitated for a split second. What if he just stayed, fighting the wyverns? He might even manage to kill them all, and then he could catch up. No one would know he was a coward.

But then he'd slay the wyverns, and continue to the room where Arthur and Merlin both intended to sacrifice themselves. He'd walk through the stone corridors, hearing nothing but the ominous silence that told him exactly what'd happened. He'd enter to see three bodies on the floor; Merlin as still as stone, and Arthur and Gawain kneeling beside him.

They'd have to carry him back with them, Lancelot thought, if he didn't take Merlin's place. They'd have to tie the cold, unmoving body to his horse, watching him jolt in an undignified manner along beside them.

Or maybe there wouldn't be a body at all. Maybe it would be too mangled to take back. Lancelot didn't know. That would, in a way, be even worse, though; seeing the riderless horse beside them and knowing Merlin should be sitting on it. There would be silence, because Merlin wouldn't be cracking jokes, and Gawain wouldn't be trying to be a bigger idiot than the sorcerer-servant.

In the end, it was this image that had Lancelot place one foot in front of the other, to continue on with Arthur, Merlin, and Gawain. Because, in a way, it was easier to sacrifice himself than to let Merlin do it and have to live with the knowledge that he could have saved him.

They walked slowly into the stone room, towards the tear in the fabric of the world. A woman was standing before it, and Arthur asked her to stop what she was doing – or something like that. Lancelot wasn't listening. _'I should have spoken to Gawain before we reached this point,'_ he realised. _'Got him on side.'_

But then the Gawain rushed at the Cailleach, and she threw him backwards with the slightest movement of her staff. Lancelot glanced sideways; Gawain wasn't moving. Most likely unconscious, Lancelot thought. It was unlikely she'd killed him.

"Is this the best you can do?" she mocked them.

"I know what you want," Arthur announced.

"Do you?" This appeared to intrigue the woman. "And are you willing to let me have it?"

"I'm prepared to pay whatever price is necessary," Arthur replied.

The woman beckoned to him, and Arthur began to step forwards. But before he reached her, Merlin muttered something and Arthur was thrown to the side. Lancelot watched with wide eyes; it was somehow _wrong_ to see Merlin attack Arthur – even if it was for his own good.

The two began to walk towards each other. "So, Emrys, you chose to challenge me after all," the woman said. This information seemed to interest her. Subtly, Lancelot began sidling towards the veil, his eyes fixed on Merlin the whole time. The sorcerer didn't seem to notice.

"Will you give yourself to the spirits to save your prince?" she asked.

"It is my destiny," Merlin responded. Lancelot moved closer… closer… he was almost there… he turned his back to the two and began walking normally.

"Perhaps," was the response he received. Then, after a moment, she continued. "But your time among men is not yet over, Emrys, even if you want it to be."

Lancelot heard these words and turned around to see them both watching him. He smiled slightly – not from joy or happiness, but because that was how he wanted Merlin to remember him. Happy to give himself for his friend.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell Merlin that he loved him. He wanted to tell him that he was the most amazing person Lancelot had ever met, and that Arthur would be lucky to have him. He wanted to curse at Merlin; to scream at him and say that it was all his fault that he was dying.

He wanted to run back and hug Merlin, to touch him one last time before he died. He wanted to go home with him, back to Camelot, and _live_, like he should have. He wanted to watch Merlin become the great sorcerer Lancelot knew he'd become.

He didn't want to die.

He tried to think of something to say, but his mind went blank. What do you say when you're walking to your death? _'Have a nice life?' _It sounded too bitter, and he didn't want to do that. So he just kept smiling, and turned away.

The veil was dark and ominous, but sort of… comforting. Taking those last few steps forward was both the hardest and the easiest thing Lancelot had ever done. Easy, because he'd come this far, and by now he really had no choice. But hard, because he didn't want to go. And because the screaming was a little off-putting.

He felt Merlin's eyes on his back, and they propelled him forward. He raised his arms, embracing the darkness.

As the veil closed behind him, he felt a gust of warm air. It was a breath of relief from the universe, proof that this was right and the balance was being restored.

The gust carried Merlin's yell of "No!" right to his ears.

And then he wished he had said something before stepping into the veil. He wished he'd said goodbye.

Not that it had needed to be said.


End file.
